Hey, you, El Conquistador, come here.
Oooh, I hate that. If it’s MY [Store Name], why haven’t you sent me my share of the profits? There’s also a special place in hell for AT&T, who ends every communication with “Thank you for choosing AT&T.” What the hell? I didn’t choose you, you’re (#1) a monopoly who (#2) ate my local phone utility. The second I can make calls from a land line without having to go through you, you won’t see me for dust.
hee.
My guess is Safeway, or one of the other stores in that corporate constellation. Worse than their current scheme of adressing customers by last name when they hand you the receipt was a couple years back when they were in a fantasy of all of their customers being three year old children that needed to be taken by the hand and led to the exact spot on the shelf where the cream of mushroom soup was kept.
I don’t need to be guided to the shelf! Just tell me that the kidney beans are on Aisle 14, on the left-hand side, halfway down, or I’ll punch you in the kidneys! I guess it never occurred to them that some shoppers might be proactive in knowing that they don’t know where everything is, and just need a hint or two to find something as they merrily wind their way up and down the aisles with their list and knowing that the canned kidney beans are in Aisle 14, (a different location than the canned green beans, BTW) is more useful than having their shopping rhythm broken while they’re led to the secret hobbit hole of the beans, then left wondering how far they’d gotten and needing to backtrack, hoping they don’t skip an aisle and get home without the dishwasher detergent.
As for being called by name, I got them - they call me Mr. Williams, and their data-mining operations are screwed up ever so slightly because they don’t know my true identity.
Ding ding ding! We have a winner! You win the economy-sized vat 'o lube… OF VICTORY!
They still do that bullshit. No, I don’t need a sherpa. Just tell me where the otter pops are before my sister kills me. (Never get between a very pregnant woman – in this case, my sister – and the food she’s craving.)
Dollars to donuts she was from Pittsburgh! “Where do yunz come from? Hon, we’re from the 'burgh. Prawd of the place we come from.”
Is that long l, short l, or double l? 
One trend I’ve noticed lately in CS here in Spain is that they call you whatever you call yourself. So, my bills come with my whole legal name (all 8 words of it!) but when I call and give the reduced version and whatever other identifying bit that company wants, they call me by the reduced version.
In stores they never call you by name or lastname, here, unless they know you. Among other things because then people paying by card or using the store’s fidelity program would get different treatment than those who didn’t.
No, unfortunately, my name is (in English) David, which means “Beloved (of God).” But I’m a big boy now, so it means whatever I bloody well want it to – to telemarketers! 
I have the opposite problem–my name is difficult, sometimes even for me to say, and I don’t always feel like teaching them how to say my name.
I’ve got a simple name that for some reason, no one knows how to deal with. My last name is Wing. Simple. You’d think.
There has never been a time when I’ve called someone, given my last name, that I haven’t had to spell it. Pizza orders, reservations, anything. At first, I thought it was the way I was pronouncing it, but my wife and others that have called in giving my name have had the same problem. Ok, fine.
But what I really can’t deal with is when they see my name written, they still ask for pronunciation tips, or just kind of mumble it. Wing is not that hard. People say it all the time at KFC or Hooters. I just can’t figure this one out.
This one’s easy to solve. The next time someone asks you to spell your name, just shout:
“It’s Wing. WING! You know, like at Hooters?”
I don’t get mad or think it’s rude. It’s just that 20 year olds have started calling me ma’am now. I’m not that old! I’m only 30!
I remember the heady days of being called “Miss” (politely). Ah, didn’t appreciate those days when they happened.
I’d prefer ma’am to the butchering of my name I usually hear, though.
I took my husband’s last name (Cates) when we got married. Simple enough, huh? Wrong. I don’t know how many times I’m called “cats”. Does no one remember the rule that the “e” toward the end makes the “a” long?
The one that really baffles me though is if I don’t spell it out, it will be spelled “Kates” ,and even if I do spell it out, 9 times out of 10 they will still spell it with a “K” instead of the “C”.
Now I know how my mom’s side of the family with all of the French names have felt over the years.